


Klokateers Behaving Badly

by hatebeat



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Charles is a sadistic bastard, F/M, I am a sick fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:30:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hatebeat/pseuds/hatebeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a gear who needs to be punished.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Klokateers Behaving Badly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Rougarou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Rougarou/gifts).



> 1292 is an original character who belongs to [Lady_Rougarou](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Rougarou).
> 
> The context to this story is that 1292 was caught on camera having sex with a certain Skwisgaar Skwigelf.

"I said, _wake up_. Do not make me repeat myself."

1292 eyes fluttered open, body feeling heavy. At first she couldn't see anything around her, vision blurred, but it didn't take long for her eyes to focus on the man standing in front of her. The pain in her shoulders was the next thing she focused on, arms twisted up behind her. She was restrained, her body suspended from the ceiling by her bound arms, the tips of her feet brushing the floor. Her first response was to kick, try to squirm free, but she found her ankles bound as well.

"Were your friends gentle when they brought you in?"

Everything was coming back to her, though her heart was pounding hard enough to nearly deafen her mind. The two others who had survived the blast were the ones who brought her in here, two she had worked with for a long time now, two who she sat in the same room with every day. They brought her in here, they injected her with something, some kind of drug. Whatever it was, she'd been out cold ever since.

They must have been following orders, but she couldn't help feeling betrayed. 

"Well, 1292?"

"No, Master," she said, voice barely a whisper. 

"Good," Ofdensen said, his tone ice. "I expected more from a Gear with your record. You know the rules. You are _not_ ," his hand moved quickly, and something leather struck her cheek, hard, and tears burned in her eyes, "to make personal connections with the band members."

"It wasn't my fault! Watch the video, you'll see--" She was struck in the face again, harder than the last time. "Lord Skwigelf approached _me_."

"I'm aware of the footage," Master Ofdensen told her. 

"Then you know that I'm innocent!" she cried, struggling against her bonds in desperation. 

"You know as well as I do that exposing your face unhooded to a band member is grounds for, ah, _termination._ "

She was going to die here. He was going to kill her, she realised, he was really going to kill her. Her breath started to come heavy, panic spilling through her veins as she scanned the dungeon in vain, as if she could find a way out. As if someone would save her.

She knew nobody was coming for her.

"Please, Master," her voice broke just slightly as tears started down her cheeks, "I've given my life for Dethklok, I've served to the best of my ability. You know this. You _know_."

Master Ofdensen's hand lashed forward and she braced herself for another smack, but something touched her stomach, instead, and jolts of electric pain seared into her abdomen. 1292 cried out with the pain of it as she spasmed, but then fell limp, her suspension from the ceiling the only thing keeping her upright.

"You don't deserve to keep your pathetic life, 1292. You knew the rules."

Her head drooped and her eyes clenched shut. "Please..."

Another jolt of electricity soared through her, this time lower, barely an inch above her groin, then another into her thigh. It hurt like hell, this wasn't even her fault! 

"If you're going to kill me, just do it already," 1292 whimpered, forcing herself to look up at him.

Master Ofdensen raised an eyebrow. "A gear who has served as long and as loyally as you have, 1292," another stroke of the tawse landed across her cheek, "shouldn't go down without a fight, I think."

"You know that I'd die for Dethklok," she sobbed, only to be rewarded with a harder hit, breaking skin.

"That is your, ah, job description, isn't it."

Electricity pored into her, then, unrelenting. She thought she was dying right then and there, she thought it was the end, and he didn't let up until she was screaming. But finally it ended, and there was silence except for her sobs of pain.

"You've done good work for this company, 1292. Your work has been very, ah, lucrative. It would be a shame," another onslaught of electricity began, "to lose you."

1292 could barely discern his words, though. The pain was too intense, and all she could think of was Skwisgaar, telling her that he'd take care of her. She wasn't even badly injured, but he told her he would take care of her.

In the hospital, she'd been so much better off than this, she realised through her sobs.

For a time, there was quiet. The pain lingered. Her head was swimming with it, and she was locked into a perpetual state of terror, fueling her tears. The adrenaline was like an overdose.

A question came to her through the pain.

"Do you want to keep your life?"

"Yes, Master," she rasped out, choking on a sob. She tried to look at him, but her vision was swimming. He was moving toward her, though, and she flinched in fear. He didn't hit her, though, or tase her again. 

A hand fisted into her hair. Something came unlatched at her back, and she was no longer suspended from the ceiling, but she had no strength or will to stand on her own. He was keeping her upright by her hair. But only for a moment. He forced her to her knees, but unable to support herself, she fell face forward onto the dank floor.

She heard something, but the sound seemed foreign to her, even though it shouldn't have. Nothing was really making sense. A hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and dragged her head up to face him, but she was looking right at his cock, his pants open in front of her.

"You shouldn't even have this face." He ran a finger along one of the welts he'd left on her cheek. "You're not even human. Just a number. You're _nothing_."

"Master," she begged, voice shaking. " _Please_..."

"If you want to live, you'll use that mouth for something other than excuses." He pulled her closer to his cock by her hair until it was pressing against her quivering lips. "Suck me. Suck me like you sucked him. Make it good."

She opened her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks as she took the head just past her lips. But she'd only gotten that far when he pushed forward, pushing the whole length in. 1292 gagged from the force of it, and he allowed her to to pull back far enough to retch. But only for a moment. 

He pushed back into her mouth, controlling her by her hair, broken sobs keeping her from doing anything remotely close to a good job, but he didn't care. He plowed into her mouth relentlessly, using her face, and the harder she sobbed, the more it spurred him on.

It may not have lasted long in reality, but it felt like an eternity before he yanked her off his cock by her hair, his cum blinding her eyes and mixing with her tears to burn at the welts on her cheeks. And then he let go of her hair, dropping her face-first onto the floor. 

She heard his pants zip, she heard footsteps. He approached her again and she recoiled with her whole body. He lifted her by her hair again, but this time a bit more gently. Master Ofdensen fit her hood down over her head, the familiar fabric sticking to the mess on her face.

"You will spend the night here, 1292. I suggest you spend it reciting your vows."

He left her there, left her in the dark, arms and ankles still bound. She would kill to be able to recite her vows right now, but the only thing she could think of was Skwisgaar telling her that he would take care of her.


End file.
